Haunted by Truth
by Amatista
Summary: Sequel to "Serenity's Torment." Loki has returned to Earth with hatred in his heart, seeking only to exact revenge upon the world and the humans his brother, Thor, has sworn to protect. What he unexpectedly finds on Earth, however, may interfere with his wicked intentions, and serves to remind him of a past that refuses to be forgotten... Loki/OC
1. Taken

_**A/N: I wanted to try this one again, since my brain refuses to let it go. This one was formerly titled "Never Gone," but I find the current title more fitting. I know many people didn't take to this story when I initially posted it, but I suppose I'm writing this one more for me than anyone else; I'm okay with that. Well, for me and for my ever-supportive and insistent young pupil (love you, Cirus!). Much of this story is the same as it was, but I did go back and change a few elements. It's twisted, it's confusing, but it will make sense much later on. If it peaks your interests, great; drop me a review and let me know if you like what you see. Thanks, all.**_

**OOOOOOOOOO  
**

The city of Kalamazoo, Michigan was under attack. There had been no warning, no sign of what was to come that day, only the rising clouds of smoke and dust indicating the spread of destruction in the otherwise minor place.

People were dead in the streets. Many of them. Some had been slain, throats slit or stab wounds to the chest. Others were crushed by falling debris from crumbling buildings. Streets stained red with innocent blood. Those still alive fled in terror, the intensity of their screams drowned out by intermittent explosions.

They ran. Out of fear, they ran from their pursuers as they were chased down, one by one. Strange, tall beings ran rampant through the city, smashing vehicles, growling like animals, slaying any in their paths and—to the shock and horror of those who witnessed—blasted some sort of _freezing_ power from their hands! Effortlessly, they were freezing some of the people who attempted to escape, trapping them inside massive misshapen icicles. What terrible power was this? Who were these blue-toned beings who were clearly not of this world?

Why, of all the significant places on Earth, were they attacking _here_?

Nothing was safe. Not even West Bloom Middle School was spared, a once proud school resembling ruins of a war-stricken structure. Pandemonium erupted and sent staff and students scattering across the campus like ants. Despite the best efforts of adults, several students lay dead on the ground. Horrified classmates howled in disbelief over those deceased, tears streamed down frightened faces as teachers tried to pry them away from the massacre; many were reluctant to leave their friends' sides.

Loki, Asgardian God of Mischief, was unconcerned with the displays of emotion from the young mortals. He walked past them, quite unfazed by the violence surrounding him. This was not about signaling a desire for world domination again. This time was different; he had other intentions in mind for these humans.

Letting the Frost Giants do his bidding, he traversed the streets toward the site of a nearby explosion. An explosion which had left several humans strewn about the street. Some had died instantly. A corpse lay in his path, and he glanced scornfully at the filthy, blood-speckled mass in his way. With a wave of his hand, the body flew off to the side. Those unhurt scrambled to their feet and herded straying children to safety, or as close to safety as they could get. Some suffered injuries that didn't allow them to stand; from a short distance, he noted they were just as filthy as the corpse he'd disposed of. It was they who Loki approached, slowly, deliberately, not in a hurry to ease their suffering.

Frost Giants surrounded the remaining survivors, weapons of ice materializing on their hands and arms, looks of distress appearing on the humans' faces as they closed in on them. Closer. Closer. Like rabbits surrounded by a nest of snakes, waiting for the deadly strikes to begin. Loki didn't signal for them to execute, though. No, he had something better in mind for these peons, for they exemplified exactly what he was seeking. They were pathetically crawling, stumbling to their feet if they could, only to be knocked back down by icy fists. The Frost Giants knew it wasn't necessary to detain the weakened ones yet, just keep them clustered together.

"Noble hearts," Loki finally addressed the captives, "sacrificing your own well-beings for the sake of youths without a second thought. Inspiring," there was a slight edge of mockery in his tone. The look of recognition on their faces was unmistakable. His was an image known to them from the attack on New York City a few years ago. Television footage had revealed the war criminal in many reports, and though his attempt at world domination failed, they understood the danger accompanying his presence. For this, Loki was pleased. "You are all noble indeed." Movement from the corner of his eye caught his attention. A man attended to an injured woman on the ground, paying little heed to the surrounding giants as he gave her what aid he could. Her leg was bleeding profusely, and though her face was strained, she did not cry. She was also the only survivor not looking at him. Loki raised an eyebrow. "Especially you."

He saw her shoulders tense, knowing it was she whom he addressed. Yes, he'd seen her protecting a child along with the rest of them, had watched her bravery until the explosion separated them. While she sustained injury, she had ordered the child to go, caring more about his life than hers. Noble, indeed, and mildly amusing. But this had been characteristic of all of them. Why, then, had she become his focal point?

He glanced at the man, whose eyes were on him. Loki used this to his advantage and scanned his mind, searching for a specific piece of information. Ah, there it was: Anna Mason.

As he drew nearer, the man placed a protective hand on Anna's shoulder, to which Loki responded by hitting him with a force that sent him flying backwards several yards. She gasped at his sudden absence, seeing where he had crashed, then cried out when Loki placed his boot atop her wounded leg. The pressure wasn't enough to break bone, but the severed nerves were on fire. To her credit, she gritted her teeth and bore the pain with as much dignity as she could muster.

He smirked. "Noble and strong is this frail creature in the face of adversity. Very good."

Sucking in a breath, she finally turned to identify her tormentor. As soon as she locked eyes with him, that same look of dread that had been present in the others overcame her countenance. She, too, recognized him from the earlier attack on Earth. Her lips trembled as she managed to harshly whisper, "Oh…God…"

A wicked grin spread across his face. "Precisely." Removing the pressure from her leg, he uttered, "She'll do; bring them," and the Frost Giants hoisted up their hostages effortlessly.

Just in time, several reporters arrived on the scene, their cameras and crew capturing every moment of devastation in the downtown area. This greatly satisfied Loki, for now these events would be documented for the world see. It would also serve to catch the attention of the one he wanted to see.

As the cameras rolled, Loki gestured to the alien beings. Throbbing pain still fresh in her leg, Anna watched as each hostage—most of them her co-workers—had blades of ice pressed menacingly against their necks. They waited, biding their time until Loki gave further orders. He could see her vision dart wildly from person to person, horrified recognition dawning in her eyes. Oh yes, perception served her well, and he certainly would not disappoint. Bringing his hand down, the giants slashed the humans' throats, blood spurting from the terrible gashes they left. Anna's jaw dropped, and though she wanted to scream, had to scream, no sound came out. The shock of what she'd seen had robbed her of the ability to do so. Reporters and news crew members filled in the sound for her, hands covering stunned mouths and some looking away, unable to endure what they'd seen.

But Anna had watched. Everything. Not a second had escaped her, and it would forever be engraved in her mind.

Each corpse was carelessly cast aside as the giants came to flank their leader. The entire group of hostages had been slain, save for one man, another woman and Anna, whose teary eyes were still transfixed on the dead. She did not sob or weep; there were only stunned tears rushing down her cheeks.

Loki looked straight into one of the camera lenses with a sinister smile as his hand encircled her throat, squeezing just enough to put strain on her windpipe. When he heard her wheeze softly, he hauled her up until her feet dangled a few centimeters off the ground, and the blood trickled freely down her leg. He stared intently into her face while she gripped at the fingers digging into her neck. It was useless, and her mouth fell further open due to lack of oxygen.

And still, the cameras rolled, capturing every image of human suffering. Loki angled her head so that her full-on visage could be seen, wanting there to be no mistaking her identity.

"Smile pretty for the world," he whispered against her cheek.

Her eyes went wide when something sharp and cold was jammed into her backside. Whether it had been inflicted by him or the huge aliens was unclear. She managed to gasp uncomfortably, and then fell completely limp in his arms. The Frost Giants followed suit and immobilized the other hostages.

In the next instant, Loki, the Frost Giants and their hostages vanished into thin air, leaving the bewildered survivors and news crews to look in astonishment over the remains of the devastated city.


	2. Debriefing

_~S.H.I.E.L.D. Operation Unit, Location Undisclosed~_

Director Nick Fury was angry. Very Angry. Two weeks had passed. Two weeks and not a word from the insidious Loki, not since the Kalamazoo incident and the abduction of three Earth hostages.

Yes, he was very, _very_ angry. Part of him wondered how the hell Banner dealt with it…

In the Intelligence Sector, Fury stared at the screens on the wall along. Although he'd studied them hundreds of times, he was not about to entertain the idea of giving up. The screens displayed information about each hostage:

_**Name:**__ Keith David Harbinger_

_**Sex:**__ Male_

_**Age:**__ 45_

_**Hair:**__ Brown _

_**Eyes:**__ Brown_

_**Height:**__ 6'1''_

_**Weight:**__ 205 lbs._

_**Occupation:**__ Physical Education Teacher, West Bloom Middle School_

_**Status:**__ Married_

_**Spouse:**__ Lucy Ann Harbinger, nee Cooper_

_**Children:**__ David, 17_

_John, 13_

_Allison, 7_

_**Name:**__ Anna Lynn Mason_

_**Sex:**__ Female_

_**Age:**__ 28_

_**Hair:**__ Blonde _

_**Eyes:**__ Blue_

_**Height:**__ 5'8''_

_**Weight:**__ 132 lbs._

_**Occupation:**__ School Counselor, West Bloom Middle School_

_**Status:**__ Engaged_

_**Fiancé:**__ Jacob (Jake) Miller _

_**Children: **__None_

_**Name:**__ Amy Marie Lutz_

_**Sex:**__ Female_

_**Age:**__ 26_

_**Hair:**__ Blonde_

_**Eyes:**__ Blue_

_**Height:**__ 5'8''_

_**Weight:**__ 128 lbs._

_**Occupation:**__ Mathematics Teacher, West Bloom Middle School_

_**Status:**__ Single_

_**Spouse:**__ None_

_**Children:**__ None_

The images of the three stared back at him, no doubt their most recent staff photos from picture day at school. Snatched from Earth with no further word, only what had been seen on television footage. Three of Earth's people. Fury remembered the look of fear on Anna Mason's face as Loki held her up by the throat, and it fanned a growing flame deep, deep down.

But right now, much of his concentration was centered on alleviating the tension between him and the demigod sitting across the table. Soon after the attack, reconstruction on the Bifrost had finally been completed, allowing Thor to travel to Earth as he pleased. Following Loki's antics, the thunder god touched down on Earth again, searching for the one who threatened the peoples of his beloved world. And as soon as he was within the confines of S.H.I.E.L.D., Fury had plenty of questions to fire at him.

Around the table sat select members of the Avengers team. Steve Rogers stared at hand-held data screens, taking in smaller versions of the information displayed on the wall; Dr. Banner glanced back and forth between the director and the legendary figure, hoping the aggravating debates had ceased for the time being. It didn't help him when the atmosphere was unsteady between individuals.

No one could blame Fury for the endless stream of inquiries. Loki had been, after all, a prisoner in the realm of Asgard for the last few years. How did he manage to escape under the heavy security that Thor had assured them would be in place? Was a world that was their supposed ally secretly plotting against Earth along with him? _That_ one was the source of an infuriated reaction from Thor, and the resulting shouting match was impressive.

At the moment, both men remained quiet, biding their time and calming before either chose to speak.

"We are not inept fools, Fury, but we are not perfect, either," Thor proclaimed, the volume of his voice greatly lessened compared to two minutes ago. "Remember that Loki is a master of trickery and deceit, and is therefore capable of anything, even in confinement. What he has done this time, I cannot tell you because I do not know. No one does. Even Father is not certain as to what took place."

He crossed his arms, anger gradually ebbing away beneath a cool demeanor. "Sometimes, I think your sympathy for your brother clouds your judgment from time to time."

Clenching his teeth, Thor stood, though maintained control over the amplitude of his speech. "Mind the words of insult you speak. We value family highly in our world, even those who have been led astray. Those bonds are sacred for all eternity, no matter how many jests or slurs you wish to throw at the notion." He walked over the screens on the wall, feeling sorrowful as he looked upon the images of the missing mortals. It struck him harder than he anticipated. What if Jane had been one of those taken during the attack? What if her life was also in danger? His head drooped slightly. These mortals, no matter who they were, had become as dear to him as Jane, for they were part of her world. And knowing Loki, they were all in very real danger. "What I can tell you is I am here, forever and always, as your friend and ally. I plan to do everything in my ability to find Loki and his captives, and bring them all back where they belong."

His sincerity was clear in every word. Rogers, Banner and the director exchanged glances. Fury, now less agitated, realized he was being truthful. He spoke quite calmly. "Speaking of which, those alien beings, the Frost Giants?"

"Yes; the Jotuns."

"Right. Just what can we expect from enemies like the Jotuns? None of them have been back since that day in Kalamazoo, but I wouldn't put it past them to return in the near future."

"Nor would I," Thor admitted. "Centuries ago, they had one agenda when they traveled to Earth, and that was absolute domination of the realm and its peoples. Any who resisted met similar fates to what you already saw. I suspect they will return to finish what they have begun."

"And on top of that, they've aligned themselves with Loki." Thanks to Thor's last visit, Loki's heritage was not unknown to the rest of S.H.I.E.L.D. Being their first encounter with such creatures, though, made any information crucial.

Thor really did look pained. "So it seems."

"Could he be plotting a takeover of Earth again?"

"It is possible. If it is the case, Earth will be under the protection of Asgard at all times. Our people will keep constant vigil, and Father will send guardians to the realm to remain on lookout. This I vow."

"Good to hear."

"However," he went on, "I am confounded by the actions Loki has taken. Not long ago, he was bent on destroying Jotunheim—and nearly did—because of how repulsed he was by the idea of being one of _them_, and not Odin's son. We weren't sure how many Jotuns actually survived the attack on their world, but we obviously know now that some did. Now Loki appears to be leading them, and they follow." His eyes hardened in thought. "Perhaps they are aware he is King Laufey's son and rightful heir."

"Wouldn't put it past him to make that perfectly clear to the remains of a dwindling race," Fury commented.

Thor nodded, then looked at him seriously. "These are powerful beings Fury, and innocent mortals would be facing a formidable foe should they decide to return for an invasion. If Jotun numbers have amassed, then the mortals will be outmatched, no matter what technological advances to defenses have been made. I mean no offense, but the race is vulnerable compared to them, and many more could die as a result. This I promise you."

Fury hoped he wouldn't be hearing that. "Perhaps this alliance is retribution for what was revealed about his parentage."

He crossed his muscled arms. "In his heart, I know he loves our father, and all he ever wished was to be acknowledged as an equal in everyone's eyes," Loki's past words emerged in his mind. "He felt I was favored over him, but regardless of his twisted notions, I still see him as my brother, and our family's love for him has not faltered, parentage be damned."

For a moment, they let quiet surround them. Feeling grateful for a brief silence, Banner spoke up. "As far as you know, would Loki have used the Bifrost to come to Earth?"

"No," he replied quickly. "Heimdall is a fierce protector of his king and realm, and would do nothing to betray either one. He would not have allowed for the escape of any prisoner."

"Any idea how he got here, then?"

He thought about that for a few seconds. "Heimdall had said Loki admitted to knowing of other gateways between realms, ones no other Asgardians are privy to."

"Sly devil," he said with an ironic smile, "going to keep us guessing and guessing."

"Thoughts, Banner?" Asked Fury.

He took a moment to collect his thoughts. "One of the aspects we want to remember is this appeared to be a random act. Random city, random timing, random choice in hostages," he gestured at the wall screens, "random all around. From what we can tell so far, these people don't have links to anything he'd need, do they?"

"From what we've researched, no. These are generally good people, law-abiding citizens, well-educated, well-liked by those around them, pretty normal by most standards. There's nothing that links them to anyone or anything of great importance—not world leaders, not celebrities, not S.H.I.E.L.D., not even any of the Avengers—no outstanding link whatsoever. And yet Loki comes down, detains them, and kills the rest."

"And we're left to wonder why, especially when he gives us no further word after the incident. If I had to guess, I'd say it was no accident on his part. The fact that these are simply good people is probably why they were taken. Loki knows the idea of tormenting innocent civilians would get us where it hurts. Not just us, but everyone else in the world."

Fury approached the screens on the wall, hands on his hips. "Accurate theory," he muttered.

"If he does strike again," Banner continued, "I'm willing to bet his methods will be similar to what we've seen. What was it Hannibal Lector said? That desperately random acts are actually not random at all."

Fury's eyebrows shot up. "I'm not sure if Lector is the best example to be following."

Banner waved him off. "Hear me out: I'm no neurologist, but just like any topic in science, if you look at things through the right lens, you'll discover patterns to everything, including thought processes. There might ultimately be a pattern to Loki's actions, even if he's not revealing anything yet. He's probably hoping we'll see his moves as random and uncalculated, but that'd be a big mistake. Even random acts are bound to have patterns, and we need to be ready to put the pieces together when we recognize what it is." He removed his glasses to pinch he bridge of his nose. "I wouldn't put it past him to take more hostages as standard practice, and they'll probably be of the same caliber as the others. I'd say one of our best options is to rely on Tony's global surveillance system, so long as he gets it up and running in the more hostile areas, too."

"We've got Barton and Romanoff assisting with any opposition," Fury assured.

The dry smile returned. "Which will be reeeal quiet, I'm sure."

"They know what they're doing. Stark's system is up and running, but only in a few places. It'll be a while before he has every probe set in place. We'll only be able to monitor those locations until the project is finished." Fury glanced over at Rogers, who seemed particularly engrossed with one of the profiles on his data screen. "Rogers." He snapped to attention, and for a second, Fury thought he looked as if he'd had to rip himself away from the screen. Through the transparent device, he saw he'd been looking at Anna Mason's profile. "I'm going to keep you here on standby, just in case an encounter arises. And I'm pretty sure it will. When it does, you'll be the best man to have on the ground first."

He gave an understanding nod. "Sounds like a plan."

"Good. Banner?"

"I've been in touch with Dr. Selvig since the attack, and we think we can trace any potential gamma signals if Loki attempts to come back. From past instances, we've seen research showing significant amounts of radiation being emitted in those areas when a supposed portal was opened. That was the reason for the question regarding the Bifrost," he said to Thor while he fiddled with his data screen. "When we looked at the data after your first visit here, I saw increased amounts of gamma radiation in the atmospheric composition. Hypothetically, if we can keep an eye on what's going on upstairs, maybe his next touchdown location will be a little more obvious. Here's a readout we obtained after Kalamazoo was hit," he showed them the chart. "Admittedly, the signal is very weak, but between this and nothing, at least we have something. Selvig and I think that we may be able to put together a device to help us pick up even low amounts of increased gamma radiation. We've already begun drafting blue prints, and I'm planning to meet with him in a few days to begin working."

"Christ, it's good to have you on the team," Fury said under his breath.

Thor hesitated; Banner noticed. "Jane Foster is on board to give us a hand as well," he smiled knowingly.

The thunder god let a breath pass through his lips. "I am glad to hear it."

"Don't worry: I'll keep her safe, and so will the other guy." They all stared at him with wide eyes. "Hey," he held up a hand, "you have my word. He knows better in this situation."

Wisely, nobody pressed the issue.

"Thor," Fury changed the subject, "with the Bifrost operational, can you take a look at what's happening between realms?"

"I can. Asgard's warriors and I will be able to search the Nine Worlds, and it will be done thoroughly. If Loki is hiding on any of those worlds, we will find him..."

More conversation took place in the Intelligence Sector, going over the various strategies suggested around the table. Sometime later, Fury's earpiece came to life. "Director, come in, sir!"

Sighing, he touched it. "Hill, please tell me we've finally heard something."

"Unfortunately, we haven't _heard_ anything," she admitted, "but we do have something you need to _see_. You need to get up here right away."

**OOOOOOOOOO**

Just outside the base, Hill and several other agents created a perimeter around an object on the desert floor. Fury's good eye narrowed as he studied it. At first glance, the object resembled an ordinary yet large chunk of quartz. Crouching next to it, he spied something else was familiar: some sort of symbols he couldn't decipher, but looked a lot like…

"Thor?" Fury inquired. "These look like runes. Can you read this language?"

Thor stepped forth, scanned it closely and, sensing no immediate threat, picked the object up in his huge hand. Once it touched his skin, a holographic image appeared above the crystal, which startled the unsuspecting agents. Then they looked. And watched.

When Fury realized what he was seeing, he muttered, "Son of a—"

Rogers came closer, watching in awe as the hologram showed what was akin to a visual recording of the hostages. No sound, but the images were so incredibly clear that one could almost hear the sounds, like watching a silent movie.

It must have been taken shortly after their capture. They were bound and gagged, being forced to march along rough terrain, looking around fearfully at their captors and surroundings; what those surroundings were, nobody knew, not even Thor. Keith. Amy. Anna. Scrapes and bruises covered their faces; Anna, whose leg had been crudely patched, was being roughly assisted by one Jotun. Trouble. They were in serious trouble. But…alive. All three of them were alive! At the very least, this was something S.H.I.E.L.D. operatives knew without a doubt.

Then they saw one of the Frost Giants strike Amy, who was knocked to her knees with a bleeding head. The same was done to Keith, who went down without resistance. That left Anna to look on in shock. To the amazement of the observing agents, she attempted to fall to her knees and help them, paying no heed to her wounded appendage. However, her efforts were abruptly halted when the Jotuns seized her arms. When she struggled—eyes still on her friends—their arms pulled back, preparing to strike—

And stopped. They didn't follow through. Instead, they relented, two of them still grasping her arms. Though no one had seen it, the Jotuns clearly had been stopped by some sort of gesture or command. Then Anna was brought closer to the crystal, so close that they could see the shimmer of tear tracks falling down her cheeks. A gloved hand reached for her. At first, she resisted, turning her head every which way, but the hand grew angry and grabbed her chin firmly, making her wince. The agents never saw a face, but it didn't take a genius to guess whose hand it was. After several seconds, her eyes slowly opened. She didn't, as they expected, stare straight into the crystal with a pleading expression. No. She stared _past_ the crystal, and right at her captor with a look that surprised them all. Radiating from those eyes was a look they knew well: fierce determination. For the longest time, she simply stared, unflinchingly, her subtle challenge to Loki impressive to even the most seasoned of veterans…

The hologram ended. Nothing more to see.

Thor lowered the crystal, and not a word was spoken. No sign of Loki in the image, but he'd been there. Just as sure as they were living and breathing, he had these people at his mercy.

Fury's mind was racing, and that was better than not racing at all. Seeing these people beaten by Jotuns had served to reignite the anger he'd earlier felt. It wafted through him like a warm wind. Out of the jumble of thoughts in his head, he was absolutely positive about one thing: Loki had wanted them to see this. Especially the last portion.

"I want every piece of information," he said, his voice finding that dangerously quiet tone yet again, "that we can find on Anna Mason. Birth records, her family, blood type, friends, hobbies, interests, schooling, affiliations—hell, if she used to smoke cigarettes, find out what brand they were. I want _every_ bit of information on her, got it?" He looked around at them. "Loki meant for us to see this, and showing off Anna like that is some sort of clue. We need to find what significance she holds for him."

With that, the agents disbanded to do their research. Fury and a few others walked back into the base. "Banner, you going to fill in Stark on what took place?"

"Calling him now," he verified, clutching his iPhone to her ear with one shoulder while pressing icons on his data screen.

"Thor, is that crystal something you've seen before? Is it used on Asgard?"

"Unfortunately, I have not seen such a device utilized in Asgard," he examined the object in his hand, "lest it was used by mages and conjurors residing in our realm. If I had to guess, though, it was likely a technology developed by Loki. He is rather crafty with such things. Shall we use your equipment here to analyze it?"

"Exactly why we're heading to the lab…"

Rogers, who walked a few paces behind them, was quiet. Listening, but quiet. Traversing the hallways to the lab, he still had Anna's image in his mind. She had been invading his thoughts long before seeing the holographic footage, and had been the focus of his attention, much more than either of the other hostages. Her vulnerability made him want to protect her; her determination made him want to applaud her. Quite the contradiction rolled into one. If, as Banner predicted, her kidnapping wasn't a random act, why had she been chosen? What could Loki possibly want with her?

Most importantly, why couldn't he shake the feeling that there was more to this woman than any of them could possibly imagine?


	3. Dead-End Clues

_**A/N: Yep, brain refuses to let go...well, that, and I have a HUGE fan crush on Tom Hiddleston. 'Nuff said.**_

**OOOOOOOOOO **

_~5 weeks later, Oros__í__, Costa Rica~_

Manny Suarez wiped a hand across his sweaty brow. His bag of coffee cherries was not yet filled, though he'd filled at least seven of them in the past three hours. Heaving a sigh, he continued checking the branches for bright red fruits, which indicated ripeness. It didn't matter how long it took or how hotly the sun beat upon his brown skin; the work had to be done. It was what he needed to do to provide for his family.

Every so often, he glanced down the row at his two sons, Manuel and Pablo, who were picking their own bags of cherries. The youngest, Pablo, was not more than ten years old. Elder brother Manuel had been put in charge, showing him the desired amount of redness on a perfectly ripe fruit. Manny watched them with pride.

Other workers in the field also picked on without complaint, seeking small red orbs amongst thick green leaves. Some even cracked jokes across the lines of trees, their laughter carried away by occasional breezes wafting through the valley.

Manny's work continued on, but nothing could have prepared him for the blinding flash of light and the sudden _CRACK_ that tore across the serene environment.

"_Ay!"_ He yelped, ducking instinctively. Whatever it was also contained a force that shook the ground beneath them.

Workers screamed, both men and women, all starting fearfully as the sound echoed off the distant mountains.

"_Qué es ese sonido?"_

"_Dios! Qué pasó?"_

Eyes turned to the sky, where they thought it had originated. Thunder? No; not a cloud in sight for lightning to be produced. No planes, nothing large enough to make such noise. But in the distance, on the far outskirts of the coffee field, a glowing ball of light caught their attentions, one that was gradually fading in its intensity.

Overcoming his initial shock, Manny turned to make sure his boys were alright. _"Manuel!" _He called out. _ "Pablito?"_

To his relief, he spotted Manuel, who had a protective arm around Pablo. _"Estamos bien, papa,"_ he replied. He and his brother still looked uncertainly at the sky. At least they were unharmed.

He looked again to the glowing mass, which was at the far end of the row he'd been working in. A few workers were already heading toward it.

"_Mijos, estancia!"_ Manny yelled to his sons; Manuel gave a distinct nod.

His bag of cherries forgotten, Manny cautiously made his way down the tree-lined row to join the gawking laborers. As he neared, the brightness of the mass seemed to ebb with every step he took, shrinking away slowly like a dying star. What in the world was creating such a strange light?

When he came to the end of the field, he became one of those gawkers. On the ground, where the light had been shrinking, was a man. A _gringo_, judging by his pale skin, appearing as lifeless and limp as a ragdoll. Manny blinked hard, but the image remained. He looked as though he'd _fallen_…but from where? Almost stupidly, he looked around them. There was no natural elevation high enough for him to fall from and make that much noise.

Swallowing, he managed to find his voice._ "Alguien consigue ayuda! Tan pronto!" _He yelled to the others.

At his order, some ran for help. Those who remained spoke quietly, almost as if they were afraid of disturbing the unmoving man. Manny knelt for a closer look. The clothes he wore were worn and terribly ragged. Black burns marked parts of his arms and neck, burns that were roughly shaped like…fingers? He drew back slightly at the thought, but continued looking him over. The man's face was blank, eyes unseeing. Perhaps he wasn't even alive. But wait a moment—why did he seem so familiar? Reaching out, he lightly placed a hand on his shoulder—

"_AAAAARRRGGGH!"_

All of them leapt back, unprepared for the _gringo's_ sudden outburst. On the ground, his eyes went wide with fear as he screamed over and over again. He was so loud that some of them had to clap hands over their ears. He wouldn't stop. Dear God, what had happened to him to make him scream in such a manner? One thing was for sure: something had terrified this man to a point where there was no reaching him. Not at this time.

It was an idea that chilled many of them to the bone.

As the man's cries finally began to subside, he curled into a fetal position, body wracked by uncontrollable shivers and tears spilling from still unseeing eyes. It was only then that a few laborers dared to inch closer. _"Se__ñ__or?"_

"_Puede que se nos escuche?"_

"_Esta bien, se__ñ__or. Esta bien."_

As they attempted to soothe the shattered man, Manny backed away, suddenly realizing why he looked familiar.

_Dios mio…_

Somewhere deep inside his heart, a tiny voice of warning was crying to him. He swallowed, quickening his steps. Help would be along soon enough, and he needed to return to his sons—

He howled when he was stabbed from behind by something cold and sharp. His immediate thought was that he was dying. Murdered in the coffee fields in which he worked. Much flashed through his mind in those mere seconds, and yet he felt as though time had completely slowed. Distantly, he heard the shocked cries of other laborers, who had witnessed the attack on their comrade. Unlike the _gringo_, his cries were extremely short lived. He didn't even have the chance to see his assailant—only felt an arm lock around his neck in a chokehold and a burning sensation cross his skin—before all went dark.

Moments later, Manuel and Pablo called out frantically for their missing father.

**OOOOOOOOOO**

As ordered, Captain Rogers had been the first on the scene. Unfortunately, what he'd gathered was a lot more questions than answers, and his return flight to base was leaving him in a less than pleasant mood. Wisely, the accompanying S.H.I.E.L.D. operatives chose to keep their distance, leaving him to contemplative silence in the rear of the plane.

And contemplative he was. Resting his chin on one hand, he let the events drift through his mind.

Keith Harbinger had been returned. It should have been a joyous occasion for friends and family, as well as the residents of Earth. However, this was not the case. He'd obviously suffered some sort of traumatic experience at Loki's hands, leaving him a broken and terrified man. With the exception of intermittent screams, he hadn't spoken a word. It would take months of psychiatric evaluation to pinpoint what damage had been done to his mind.

He would have to be brought back to his family in this condition after a seven-week absence. What a heartbreaking reunion this was going to be.

To make matters worse, another hostage had been taken. Manny Suarez. Snatched away before his sons' eyes. Why? Where had their father gone? What was going to happen to him? The mixture of confusion and devastation from those boys made it difficult to offer words of comfort.

Rogers sighed through his nostrils. For all his experience assisting others in World War II, the Chitauri invasion, and throughout his life in general, there was little he could do to give those distraught boys the reassurance they needed. To be honest, he wasn't sure there _was_ anything to reassure them about.

It was not how Rogers wanted to visit Costa Rica for the first time. Such an aura of turmoil had descended over the region, one that could spread if he and the rest of S.H.I.E.L.D. couldn't find a way to protect potential victims in the future. So far, nothing was giving him even a mere glimmer of hope. During his investigation, many witnesses had come forth to describe what they'd seen, and all the stories shared a common thread: Loki, along with one Frost Giant, had absconded with their latest victim.

Made off with another good person, according to the workers. From another place no one would have anticipated. So Banner's theory of a pattern wasn't that far off.

But where were they being taken? What methods could they develop in order to find the remaining hostages? Stark's surveillance system would alert them when things happened on Earth, but could it be developed to aid them in locating the missing three? Vengeance had been a motive in the past, but it might not be as simple as that anymore. What was Loki's game this time, and how long was it going to last?

Rogers wished he had a clue. Any clue.

And then there was the one crucial piece of evidence he currently grasped in his palm: another crystal had been left behind for them to find. Rogers switched it from his gloved hand to his bare one for the ninth time, and the silent images came forth. This time the hologram featured only Anna, prisoner of Loki and the Jotuns, lying alone on the floor of a cave-like cell. At first, the woman appeared dead, even as the crystal neared her unflinching face. However, someone must have yelled at her, for she was suddenly jolted out of troubled sleep. Rogers could see that she still wore the gag he'd seen in the first hologram, a replica of what Loki had worn when he was in custody; perhaps it was a form of punishment. When she realized the crystal was before her, she simply stared at its possessor with tired eyes, then turned away slowly. She did not want to be seen in this manner. Apparently, Loki didn't take those feelings into consideration.

That was all. No footage of Keith or Amy, or Loki himself. The image disappeared once more, and Rogers' put together whatever pieces he had. Anna was alive, and Loki wanted them to know. What remained unclear, though, was _why_. There had to be something that would cause the trickster to keep his attention riveted on her, but no one at S.H.I.E.L.D. could come up with a definitive reason. Not yet, anyway. Would it be different now that new hostages were being taken? Would they receive the same attention that he gave to Anna?

Rogers doubted that. He switched the crystal between his hands again. Each time he watched, each time he saw Anna's eyes turn to Loki, he felt his chest tighten. Once more, he was feeling his protective side flare for this woman. A woman whom he'd never met in his life. The notion brought up more nagging questions in his heart, and they all began with "why." What could this woman possibly mean to him if he didn't have any affiliation with her?

He watched as Anna looked at her captor. Her eyes had not been cold towards him, and didn't convey hatred or pain or resentment, though she was quite entitled to them. On the contrary: they seemed to show quiet pity. Remarkable. How could she feel anything but negative emotions towards the wayward Asgardian?

As her gaze turned away, he made an unspoken promise: _I'm going to find you. _

Then he gave his head a quick shake. We. _We're_ going to find you, he corrected himself. In his thoughts, it was what he meant to say, that _they_ would find her. Him and the team. But he hadn't thought it. He'd automatically thought...

He drew in a slow breath, released it just as slowly. Squeezing the hard crystal in his hand, he glanced out the window, hoping the remainder of the flight would be brief. He had much to discuss with Banner and Fury.


	4. Prisioner of the Nightworld

_~2 months later, Nótterverƍld~_

They were coming. She knew it. Exhausted as she was, every nerve in her body anticipated their arrival. With half-open eyes, she waited. Waited in the dark for the imminent wake-up call. She was tired, yes, but she had to be ready. It had become routine during her imprisonment. How long had she been here? What time of day was it? No matter. Her body had become accustomed to a certain amount of rest and she woke automatically, bracing herself for what was to come.

Anna sighed quietly. The metal gag forced her to release it through her nose. Deep down, she was grateful for the device: it contained a mechanism that produced oxygen. The thin atmosphere of this planet made it difficult for humans from Earth to breathe, but with this, she could function without feeling like she was going lose consciousness. The other bindings were gone. It was silly, really. What was the point of keeping her restrained? She couldn't run for help on this strange world, and she certainly hadn't the means to rebel against her captors. She just breathed in cold air, let the sharpness of it flow down her throat and into her lungs, then released it as a warm cloud of its former self.

Most of her time was spent in here. The cave that was her cell was cold. Oddly enough, the cold had nothing to do with the weather on this planet, but with the composition of her quarters. The walls were not all made of rock; some were great sheets of thick ice, courtesy of the alien race also residing on the planet. Jotuns—that was what they'd been called. The coolness of the air made the metal against her face frigid at times.

She curled closer to the far rock wall, staying as far away from the ice as possible. Despite the cold, she did not shiver. Part of it was due to being a seasoned veteran of Michigan winters; the other part had to do with the black clothes she now donned. Somehow, they blocked out the worst of the chill, protecting her from her ankles to the top of her neck. Plain enough, but the intricate design and high collar of the garments reminded her of something akin to—to—

A uniform. Why the hell had she been forced to wear a uniform? To her knowledge, the other hostages hadn't received clothes like this, which did _not_ please her. They shouldn't suffer in the cold while she had something to prevent it. She didn't dwell too long, though. Loki hadn't answered any of her questions, and he never would.

Loki. She pushed him from her mind as fast as she could. The less she thought about him, the better.

Thankfully, her thoughts were interrupted when a tinkering sound behind her, like glass crackling under pressure, snapped her senses to full alert. Like clockwork, they had returned. She was nearly to her feet when a Jotun roughly shoved her from behind with a loud growl. Stumbling, she caught herself and followed the direction he'd pushed her, going through the irregular opening he'd made in the ice wall.

Another rough shove sent her out into the great antechamber, a cavernous expanse of solid rock. Waiting for them was a sizable group of Jotuns, some of whom growled menacingly when she made her appearance. She didn't react, not even as the sounds echoed off the cave walls.

Once she was there, there was no pause as the tall beings set off at a run. Anna fell into step along with them, an oddly short being mixed among their towering forms. She didn't need insistent prompts or gravelly shouts to get moving. She ran of her own volition. Every morning, it was the same thing, and she had to do it.

Onward, they ran. Through the expanse of the vast antechamber, down lengths of dimly lit tunnels, they ran. She could already feel the change in temperature out here. While it was still cool, it was not nearly as cold as her cell. Every so often, the beings would shove at her, forcing her to keep pace. They seemed to do it for their own amusement. Moments like these brought to light the dual purpose of the black clothes, for they protected her skin from getting burned by the Jotuns' touches. She wasn't sure why their skin scalded hers, but seeing how they were aliens to her, it wasn't really all that far-fetched. She'd been burned several times, but Loki saw to it that she'd been healed.

Damn it, she thought, shaking him from her thoughts again and focusing on breathing.

They ran. Not far ahead, the tunnel came to an end and, finally, they exited that gloom only to enter the dark expanse of the outside world. Always, it was dark here, like a place of eternal night.

There was no time to take in their surroundings. They ran. Down a dirt path that led to a valley of shallow stone hills, they pushed on.

Anna used to hate running. She'd been a terrible runner in the past. Here, unfortunately, she didn't have a choice. Each day, she ran with the Jotuns across foreign scenery, usually for hours at a time. It was like an extreme version of cross-country practice. Initially, these treks had been awful: she was so drained by the end of the first mile that she thought she would vomit, or pass out, or felt as if her heart would explode in her chest. The rugged, mountainous terrain of this planet didn't help matters. Boots pounding over hard ground sent shooting pains through her calves; climbing up steep cliffs, which stretched arms and legs beyond their comfort points; charging through occasional streams, the deepening waters causing her to slow her progress; leaping to get across gaps in the rocks and trying to regain footing before her face hit the ground…Muscles that were not used to strenuous activity _screamed_ to life beneath her skin, and later felt as though they'd turned to jelly. Of course she'd done workouts back home, but _never_ to this extent.

However, it was amazing what time and frequency could do for one's body. Over the weeks, the runs became easier. She didn't tire as quickly. Her ability to keep up with the Jotuns had greatly improved, despite the fact that she still tired quicker, and tripped and fell every so often. Even though they'd yell at her, she'd get up on her own and keep going. Breathing, which she thought would be impossible with the gag over her mouth, was anything but; it seemed to detect when her body's need for oxygen increased, and ended up pumping more into her system.

Keep going, she would repeat to herself. Keep going. Don't stop. Keep going.

While climbing the shallow hills, she stumbled, going momentarily to one knee. Two or three Jotuns howled around her, which she'd come to interpret as _"Get up!"_ as they grabbed at her arms. Not needing their help, she stood and kept running.

Breathe. Breathe, she chanted in her head.

Several large boulders were on the path ahead of them. While the Jotuns leaped over them with ease, Anna struggled to climb over them. Those behind her shouted and pushed her up and over, letting her fall to the other side with a thud. She pushed herself up and kept moving. By now, perspiration beaded her forehead and dripped down her temples, but she ignored it.

As they descended the hill, she detected a shift in their pace. As a result, Anna lengthened her stride, feeling her legs stretch further and further as she matched their speed. It hurt, but not badly. They were, predictably, unimpressed, but said nothing more as they continued charging through the quiet dark.

**OOOOOOOOOO**

It had been about two hours before they stopped for a rest. By the edge of the lake, Anna, whose limbs were burning familiarly, splashed several handfuls of water on her face. Unlike the cold of her cell, it was a welcome feeling of sudden cold on hot skin, washing away the sweat and grime from their excursion. The pounding of her heart beneath her chest was slowly dying down, her breathing returning to a normal rhythm. Face dripping wet, she glanced down the shore at the Jotuns. Thankfully, they kept their distance while she rested, though some watched her with glowing red stares.

Combing hands through tangled hair, which had grown longer, she wove it into a messy braid. It was the best way to hold it back. As she crouched there, she took a rare moment to simply take in her surroundings.

Dark, she thought. Looking around this place reminded her of the Colorado wilderness at nighttime. There were forests filled with vegetation she'd never seen before, wide grassy meadows, mountains and many small, rocky hills, lake water that was black as ink in the darkness, ripples lapping gently against the shore. Permanent night was taking some getting used to. Not feeling the warmth of sunlight affected her psyche more than she could have imagined. Lack of light sapped her of energy, made her feel like she needed to sleep forever. She had to train herself to go even if the rest of her resisted.

One might believe it would make this world seem like a sinister place, but her thoughts were to the contrary. There was no moon, but a massive amount of stars speckling the sky…damn, it was beautiful. As much as she hated to admit it, wanted to deny the thoughts in her mind, it was beautiful. Stars. Millions of them. Glittering like jewels against the backdrop of night. The lone source of light present, and her mind clung desperately to it. This was the only escape she had in this world, when she could sit and wonder if any of these stars belonged to the galaxy she lived in. Beautiful as it was, though, it saddened her. Stargazing was something that brought peace to her heart, let her dreams come to life, if only in her mind. But here, gazing at them served to remind her of how far away from home she probably was. The thought sent a mild pang straight into her heart.

The pain intensified as her thoughts lingered to…

Jake…

The weight of a thousand memories flooded her head, made it feel heavy. Absently, her thumb toyed with the thin band of her engagement ring. It surprised her that they hadn't taken it away. Then again, what use could they have for it?

Bittersweet musings were abruptly cut short when a Jotun grabbed her from behind. She detected the word "_Move!_" in his growl as he pushed her once again towards the pack of blue giants. Time for the return journey to begin. Thankfully, they would be walking, a much less laborious task.

Anna's relief was short-lived, however. The hours were yet young, and she dreaded what she was about to face next.

**OOOOOOOOOO**

She prayed that they would take her right back to her cell, but her hopes were cruelly dashed when they led her into the underground arena. She should have known better.

In the middle of the circular floor, Anna squared off against one of the Jotuns. A sparring match. When he lunged again, she managed to block the attack with her ice sword, which left her torso unguarded. Seeing this, her opponent delivered a large fist squarely to her gut. Eyes going wide, Anna released a harsh grunt against the unyielding gag. She went down instantly.

Above her, the Jotun brayed triumphantly as she clutched her belly and fought to regain her breath. Around the colossal structure, other giants laughed and growled in amusement as they observed. Their cold laughter fanned the spark of anger burning in her chest. Coughing in her throat, she finally pulled a gasping breath in through her nose.

The first day they had thrown her into these matches was like being thrown into a lion's den. Why Loki expected her to fight against the Jotuns almost every day was far beyond her comprehension. She was not a fighter! Did he really think she stood a chance? A human against these humongous creatures? Seeing how he was responsible for the deaths of so many people on Earth, it really wasn't unbelievable. This had to be a sick form of entertainment for him. It made sense: she was ultimately humiliated during these bouts, regardless of how hard she fought back.

"_Get up,_" the Jotun ordered somewhere behind her.

Her face was covered in sweat. Small cuts left by his bladed arm were stinging and bleeding under her clothes, but she had to get up. Shaking her head, she attempted to rise.

He was becoming impatient. "_Get up, girl_."

Go to Hell, she thought as she finally stood. She swayed, but kept her feet firmly planted while bringing up the sword defensively. Insane? Perhaps. She could argue the practicality of battling when she was at such a disadvantage, but pure instinct told her she _had_ to. With all her heart, she had to fight back. It was what she needed to do to survive.

Visions of friends who had died…remembering how the blades had sliced across their necks…and how their blood had flowed…how strangely metallic it had smelled when the odor wafted in her direction…the overwhelming smell…

And then Jake's handsome face entered her mind. And the faces of the many students she cherished. They needed her to come home; she needed them just as badly. There was the root of her determination. She refused to share the same fate as her friends. So long as she was alive, there was a chance to see the faces in her mind again. She grasped that hope, as ridiculous as it might have seemed.

Her sword remained at the ready, the thoughts of loved ones sending warmth to frigid fingers beneath her black gloves.

The Jotun effortlessly swatted her blade aside. Though it hardly seemed like an exertion for him, the strength of his blow sent her stumbling off to the side.

With a derisive snort, he spat, "_Rancid little whore_."

She snapped. Without warning, she charged at him and swung the sword at his head with a muffled yell. Her eyes were flashing, angry at his venomous comment, and her anger could be seen in the way she moved. When he blocked the attack, he released an angry snarl, catching her around the waist and throwing her down roughly to the stone floor. She groaned loudly at the impact her shoulder made with the ground, but it didn't feel broken. Wincing through the pain, she pulled back her unhurt arm to elbow him in the stomach, anything to keep fighting…but he saw her intention even before she did. His blade moved quickly and slashed across her bicep, and she screamed against the gag in agony as her flesh tore.

"_Enough!_"

The one word echoed to the very top of the domed structure and lasted several seconds. All the Jotuns stilled, and Anna's attacker stepped back, blood staining his blade, eyes glaring but without argument.

Gripping her wounded arm, she stayed curled on the ground, panting heavily. Pain blasted down her arm, but she kept breathing, pushing through the discomfort and remembering that, for now, it was over. Until the next time. Just needed to concentrate on the heat of her blood spilling through her fingers, and how she needed to keep it inside her skin. Heavy breaths passed in and out of her flaring nostrils as she forced herself to calm. Tears were flowing down her cheeks, but there was no stopping them. Breathe. Breathe. Same as during the running sessions. Panic would only make things worse.

She didn't look up as the faint click of boots against the stone floor came closer, grew more audible with each step. She didn't need to look: Loki's image was engraved in her mind forever. She simply guarded herself, gaining more and more control over her breathing as seconds passed. Steps came closer. Her muscles tensed defensively, but there was little she could do to prevent what happened next.

Loki took her arm in his hands. She didn't object as he ripped the torn sleeve down the middle and inspected her injury. In addition to the gash, there were several smaller cuts and bruises marring her skin. Anna's gaze remained averted; she clenched her other hand into a fist, ignoring the slippery sensation of blood in her palm. His touch nauseated her, stomach churning as his fingers grazed over her skin. Cold fingers; so, so cold…She squeezed her eyes shut when he moved her arm in a way that applied intense pressure. It shot through the entire limb like electricity.

Noticing this, he paused, waited until she relaxed, then continued his examination.

"Hush now," he soothed when she winced again.

Her stomach lurched a second time, sickened by the concern in his voice. It must have been false; he never showed concern after _he_ inflicted pain on her. In the back of her mind, though, she could feel him pressing gently around the gash, seeing where the worst pain originated. It dawned on her that for the brute he oft proved to be, there was absolutely nothing threatening about his touch. Not in this moment.

It was a thought that frightened her to the very core.

She sighed quietly. There he was beside her. Loki. The man responsible for her kidnapping and subsequent captivity. Also the one who stopped the Jotun from harming her any further. In fact, he'd put an end to her torment every time she was about to face serious injury. Why? Silently, she dismissed the question; she reminded herself that he'd never answer.

Anymore, she didn't feel the consuming fear she once held towards him, nor did she convey it. With the Jotuns, their very appearance warranted fear. Loki, though…

She couldn't explain it. Of course, there was plenty to be frightened of, for Loki's demeanor could change instantaneously if incensed. But full-on fear? No. It wasn't in her heart. Instead, there was…something else. Warning, perhaps. Yes, that was it.

Despite the thoughts swimming in her head, she soon recognized the quieting of her frantic nerves. Even with her captor so near, and even though the gash shrieked pain and blood oozed over her skin, her body was settling down.

When he ran a finger across the wound, an incredibly icy sensation seared into the mark, and she gasped sharply behind the gag. It didn't last long.

"You lack concentration," he accused shortly. "Improve the speed of your reflexes."

As intense iciness subsided, Anna looked to find that the bleeding had stopped. Temporarily, anyway: Loki sealed the gash with a strip of ice, courtesy of his ice touch. The same had once been done for her leg injury months ago.

Sighing, her hand cradled the wounded arm, which was now covered in goose bumps from shivering. Flinching briefly when she detected his hand on her back, she hesitated, uncertain of his intention. But he simply assisted her, hoisting her easily under the shoulders until she was on her feet. She had to push aside her gut reaction.

Keeping a hand at the back of her neck, Loki glanced about the arena at their audience of Jotuns. Where Anna was often terrified by their appearances alone, Loki looked upon them unflinchingly. "The rest of you carry on with your drills."

The one who'd been fighting Anna sneered. "_My drill is not yet finished, and I would prefer to finish what I started_," he raised his bladed arm.

Seeing her blood on it made her stomach drop, but Loki stepped forward, challenging the beast. "You have been given your orders," he said smoothly, and then the tone in his voice changed, "or need I remind you, Golnar, of the consequences of crossing your rightful king?" He clasped his hands behind his back, staring directly into the being's eyes. "Forget not the fates of your former comrades, as some might be lonely lying at the bases of those cliffs."

Golnar's lip sneered angrily. Exchanges like this secretly intrigued Anna. Why would they be afraid of someone who was so much smaller? Then again, she'd been witness to some of the horrific punishments he instilled upon others.

The Jotun chose wisely; he lowered his arm, backed down entirely. They may not have liked Loki, but they knew better than to make an enemy of him.

Loki's hand reclaimed the back of her neck. With a sigh, she let herself be led away from the arena, her arm still throbbing in icy-cold pain.

The hall from the arena led right to the antechamber, further evidence of the labyrinthine system within this cave. Entering the vast room, Anna was led past the far rock walls, where a few Jotuns stood on guard like wardens, watching the demigod and the human cross the floor. Her eyes glanced at translucent ice doors that were similar to the one on her cell. These were the cells of Loki's other hostages. Her ears could detect the faint sound of their persistent cries for help. It brought tears to her eyes, but she didn't let them fall. Squeezing her wounded bicep distracted her with the instant sting and blood it brought forth.

Stopping at one of the doors, Loki placed his hand upon the smooth surface, and Anna heard the crackle of ice splitting as he used his power to create an opening.

While they waited, she let her eyes wander to the cell doors. Amy was still residing behind one of them; Keith used to occupy another.

But Keith was gone, she thought with a sad heart. Driven past the brink of sanity and cast back to Earth. She didn't think it could have happened so fast to such a sound mind, but it had; caused him to pace incessantly in his little alcove while tearing at his scalp, often babbling to himself incoherently. Loki had forced her to watch his descent into madness, bringing her face-to-face with her colleague the very instant his weeping eyes transformed into a vacant, ghostly stare. Whatever Loki had done—whatever he'd said—plunged Keith into a deep, dark, endless abyss. Gone; he was no longer the man she, nor anyone else, once knew. It was one of the most heartbreaking forms of torture she'd ever been exposed to.

The memory subsided. Keith was gone, and in his place was a Hispanic man whose name she didn't yet know. The cell adjacent to his harbored a fourth hostage, this time a woman from New Delhi; Sudeepa, she was called. Adding more to his collection of misery. Just like with the running, Anna seemed to be the only human forced to spar with the Jotuns, and that always caused a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. How many more humans would Loki collect, and what plans did he have in store for them?

It took only seconds for Loki to make a doorway in the ice. They walked into a room that bore little resemblance to the rest of the massive cave, the flames of a few torches casting wavy shadows upon the walls. It was larger than Anna's cell and reminded her of an urgent care facility. Not as advanced as what she was used to, but something close to it. A healing room, as Loki referred to it. Shelves in the rock walls contained many old books, various bandages, vials and jars of differing shapes and sizes, which didn't emit pungent odors of antiseptics or alcohols. Beside one shelf was a low, flat slab of rock, which acted as a sickbed.

"Mæja," he called.

From behind an outcropping of rocks, a young woman emerged with one of those great worn books in her hands. Anna looked up as she came into view, and the woman abruptly stopped. While her eyes filled with concern and sorrow at the human's appearance, she did not utter a word: she, too, had been cruelly gagged. Anna felt her own eyes shine with recognition. Mæja. Yet another prisoner of Loki, and one who had an extensive background in medicinal arts. Whenever she was hurt, Loki brought Anna to her for healing. Dropping the book on a nearby table, she immediately rushed to Anna's side, torchlight glinting off her long, silver-blond hair as her hands began to check the arm.

Anna sighed to herself, knowing she was in good hands. Giving Loki an expectant look, Mæja waited while he touched the side of Anna's gag, and the metal magically melted away from her face, morphing into a collar that fit snugly around her neck. When it settled into place with a _click_, she drew in a deep breath through her mouth. The device allowed her to breathe in the same way that the gag did. How he'd managed to develop this interchangeable piece of equipment was mind-boggling, but she flexed her jaws appreciatively.

Mæja guided her to the sickbed and immediately pressed a waiting cup of water to her lips. The liquid was blessedly warm and most welcome on her tongue, and even though her body _screamed_ for hydration, Anna forced herself to take long, measured sips. She'd paid the price for gulping too fast in the past, but she'd been a quick learner. Now, she patiently drew in the soothing water and let it slide smoothly down her parched throat, letting the minimal heat fill her from the inside out. When she'd finished drinking, Mæja refilled the cup, which she drank just as slowly. Reaching up with her good arm, Anna took hold of the glass, not wanting to feel like or be treated as a complete invalid. She wanted to keep some of her pride.

When she was aptly satiated, Mæja began her talents as she tore off the remaining sleeve and began to examine the patched arm. Anna made no objection; other wounds had been worse. Melting ice had left smears of dark blood, but the frigid bandage prevented the worst of the bleeding. The two women looked at one another. Anna saw genuine kindness emanating from Mæja's eyes, and the compassion reflected in her face was something she valued.

Understanding what was silently conveyed, Anna gave a nod of assent. Mæja gathered some materials from the shelves, returning with cloths, bandages, a bowl of clean water, and two of those oddly shaped jars. With absolute care, she cleaned the gaping wound, being mindful when Anna stiffened in pain. Despite this, her touch was very gentle.

Anna wordlessly watched her dip into the jars of salve to rub over her skin. She also felt her heart grow calmer as minutes passed. There was burning pain from contact at times, but it was starting to fade. Slowly, but fading nonetheless. Her eyes never left the diligent Mæja. Just by looking at her, Anna was intrigued. Hers was a face of extraordinary contradictions. She looked young, but the aura of maturity and wisdom exuding from those keen grey eyes suggested one who was much older. She could have been twelve; hell, she could have been twelve _hundred_. She was timeless, undefined by any age. By that trait alone, Anna knew this was not a woman of Earth. It was obvious in her confident actions, the graceful, unwavering movement of her hands. Only someone who'd tended to many a fighter could be so capable.

When it was clean and dressed, Mæja slid the arm into a makeshift sling and pressed it carefully to Anna's chest, holding up two fingers to indicate _Two days to heal_. Again, she nodded. When they locked eyes again, Anna noticed something else that was always present in her face: sorrow. Immense sorrow underlying the ever-present maturity and wisdom. Besides the gag, this was something else they had in common. It was easy to see how much she dreaded being here, a captive confined to the cold world of night, bending to Loki's will. She tried to bury those feelings deep down, push it aside, hide it so she could concentrate on the needs of her patient. Masking pain from the human was not always a success, though. Anna could see it, and she tried to let as much reassurance shine through her eyes as she possibly could.

Mæja's hands lightly ran over her shoulders, across her back, and down her legs in a non-threatening way, searching for more injuries. It had amazed Anna a few weeks ago when she realized what was happening to her body. Slowly, her muscles were becoming more and more solid, a drastic change from a form she used to categorize as "normal." Especially alarming was the definition in her legs, which she'd always worked so hard to achieve. No wonder the sessions with the Jotuns were not as arduous as they had initially been. Her entire body was adjusting over time, muscles reacting to the running, climbing, pulling, jumping, fighting; she was gradually becoming stronger from it all.

What a horrible way to get into better shape, she thought dryly.

The first aid was a welcome distraction, but she could not ignore the unmistakable feeling of being watched. Across the room, she knew Loki was lounging comfortably in a chair reserved for him, his eyes on her the entire time. They were like iron weights pressing down on her mind and into her skin, growing heavier and heavier as he continued to stare relentlessly. Irritating as it was, she would not look at him. She knew he could read her thoughts if he looked into her eyes, and she wasn't going to play his game.

He would see to it that her physical injuries were well-tended to, and that she was given food and water before returning to her confinement. Knowing this caused further questions to emerge, even if she didn't bother voicing them aloud. Why bother nursing her back to health when she was hurt? Why not leave her to suffer in the arena with the Jotuns, or bleed to death alone in her cell? Maybe he was exploiting her need to fight back, regardless of the outcome. If that was the case, fine. Maybe this was meant to be her fate, and if it was, she would go down fighting.

A warm, damp cloth wiped across her face, pulling her from her thoughts as it cleared away the last traces of dirt, sweat and tears. It was then that Anna realized how exhausted she was, and it must have shown in her face, for Mæja ran a reassuring hand over the human's forehead. She dimly hoped her time in here would be prolonged.

A memory of Jake holding her in his arms suddenly came to mind. The thought warmed her from deep inside and began to spread.

**OOOOOOOOOO**

The trip back to her cell was quiet, save for the faint cries drifting from the other icy cells. Anna's head cocked towards them. She listened, wishing there was something she could do for them besides worry and pray for their sanity. He had left the gag off, but she didn't use the opportunity to speak. She had nothing to say to Loki, who was equally silent by her side. No shocker there. He barely spoke to her unless to reprimand her. At the very least, she was fed and allowed to use a hygiene chamber before returning.

Back to confinement within walls of ice and stone where she could recover her strength for the next two days. Back into the dark and chilly atmosphere she'd grown accustomed to. Back to her spot by the far wall where she slept—

Before she could take another step, he grabbed her loosely braided hair and spun her around to face him.

She winced severely. Damn it, that hurt! The stupidest and easiest way to paralyze a person, and he took full advantage of that knowledge. Through the stinging pain in her scalp, she felt Loki take her chin in his hand. Cradling her arm close, she didn't struggle, but squeezed her eyes shut as he tilted her face up. The last thing she wanted to do was…

"_Look_ at me." He said it so quietly, but it was almost hissed, a degree of threat behind his words.

Christ, she was just too tired to argue. Pushing the pain aside, she opened her eyes to meet his face.

And stared. Even in the dim room, she could see every detail of him, and her sight sharpened as her eyes adjusted. Having the term "handsome" come to mind seemed abominable, but he was. Coldly handsome, but still deserving of the title. The immortal Loki looked the same every time: flawless pale skin; chiseled jaw line; sharply pointed chin; hair black as onyx touching his shoulders; tall, lithe body masking superior strength and agility; uniform of black and green and touches of gold decor donning his frame. These features suited him well. He stared, looking into her with clear green eyes on an emotionless face. He didn't speak; only stared. Delving as deeply into her mind as he could go and there was nothing she could do to stop him.

Searching for weakness, she presumed. If he found it, she didn't care.

Strange…everything about him was as cold as this planet—his hands, his face, his words, his mannerisms—with one major exception: his eyes. Those green, green eyes. As they bore into her, she secretly studied them. Green. They were different from the rest of his unchanging face. They were _alive_, alight with a myriad of thoughts and ideas running rampantly through them. Green. Vacillating emotions flickered through them and caused subtle changes of color, betraying an otherwise stoic demeanor. It made him seem more…more real, she supposed. Perhaps most surprising was the peculiar interest she detected somewhere behind the emerald gaze. Just like with Mæja, she could sense what he didn't want seen. It was surprising, and confusing.

More confusing was the fact that she was calming even _more_ as she looked at him. Body relaxing. Breathing steady. Anxiety lessening. She didn't like this. So much of her wanted to blame it on exhaustion, but she knew that wasn't true. Every time he had her in his grasp, it elicited the same response. What the hell was she seeing that she didn't understand?

_I do not fear you_, the small voice in the back of her mind always whispered. Her fingers pressed into her bandaged arm. Where in the world was that coming from? Even she had to admit what a gutsy call it was.

He must have detected those words, for something flashed through his eyes. She could sense him withdrawing from her psyche, his gaze becoming as cold once again. Without warning, he firmly slapped her across the face.

She didn't utter a sound. Not a yelp, not a gasp, nothing. She could take it. He'd done this so many times that she hardly staggered anymore, just jerked her head from the force of the blow. Her cheek tingled with mild pain as she exhaled slowly, coming out in a visible puff of vapor. Without another thought, she turned her back to him and retreated to her place on the floor, ready to give her body the rest it needed.

Her eyes were on the wall, but she thought of Loki. _I do not fear you_, her mind repeated, and she actually let herself believe it.

Behind her, Loki's footsteps were already walking away, the crackling of sealing ice indicating that she was, finally, left to her solitude once more.

In the dark of the cell, Anna lay on her side, cradling her arm close as she drifted into a merciful sleep.


End file.
